Riven
by Cortez Caravel
Summary: The world is not what it once was. The earth has been divided into three through the scheming of Hades. Zeus floats aimlessly through the sky above him, while Poseidon sits miles below in the deepest depths. When Hades decides to interfere with the god's only hope - the last demigods - they finally take action. After the wars, no one expected the next threat to come from within.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Dusk descended upon the world, creating giants among men as the retreating light played with the shadows, elongating them into the misshapen monstrosities born from the mind's irrational fears. A confusion of colours set upon the land unique to this specific time of day. The normal hues of day growing darker until the black of night overspreads the sky like a blanket, only to be broken by pinpricks of light from the stars and the glow from the cities warding off the terrors that it brings. Like classical music it can be most beautiful, and yet at the same time haunting and unsettling.

An ancient and abandoned amphitheatre stood empty, waiting to fulfil its role in the last rays of the receding light. The remains of great stands once filled with an adoring crowd now bare and desolate, the cheering replaced with the haunting of the wind, stirring up dust and leaves and moving through the aisles as if searching for lost and long forgotten dreams. Though in this empty shell echoing its former glories the stage stands ready and prepared for the next great show. The actors in their positions, the set ready and the light... fading fast. The most important member had yet to arrive and unlike the saying, the show cannot continue without him, for he is the most important player and the crowd will not respond to the call of any but him.

The gathered ensemble stood impatiently, as if waiting for their cue from the director. They do not like to be kept waiting. It is something that they are unaccustomed to. Bedecked in wonderful garments worthy of such a production; or so it would seem. As the fading light relinquishes its hold upon the earth the only discernible features left of our three actors upon the stage are their silhouettes. Two graceful, slender women and a squat, pudgy man – all thinking about better ways they could be spending their time.

To keep themselves preoccupied they had each taken to their own musings, ignoring the air heavy with awkwardness. They were not used to being in each other's presence without some sort of agenda to discuss. Other than that they preferred to keep to their own or entertain themselves by meddling in the mortal realm, lest they start a fight by offending the others in some way. Some of them could be so uppity and dealing with it is more trouble than it's worth.

The first woman with her hair done up in a loose bun broke the unusual, eerie silence of the approaching night with the clink of her spoon against her bowl and the audible crunching noise her cereal made as she slowly chewed, each crunch bringing her immense satisfaction and annoying the others to no end. No matter how much she ate the bowl never emptied, much to the disappointment of the other two present.

The other woman gave off an aura and beauty that would surely enchant those who would find themselves in her presence, whether that is fortunate or a slice of bad luck, however, depends upon the individual. She wore her hair down in luscious, lazy waves that bounced at the slightest of movements and a few pieces of jewellery that glittered and shined in the ambient light of her laptop screen. She seemed to be playing a game comparable to _The Sims_ series, only much more detailed and complex. She hovered her cursor over a dark haired teenager and his blonde girlfriend. The two seemed to be heading home after a day out, chatting along happily, wrapped around each other, oblivious to the clamour of the people and vehicles around them. Things were going well. They had reached a lull in their conversation and the young man leaned over as if to kiss his girlfriend. Just as he did, she proceeded to click on him and brought up the options and browsed through the selection. He had almost landed the kiss on his girlfriend's cheek when she clicked the 'Say something awkward' command and quietly giggled to herself as the young man fulfilled the action. She had taken an interest in him and his girlfriend years ago and he had never failed to entertain her in some way, even if he didn't know it.

The squat and pudgy man could not be described as anything other than squat and pudgy. He held a canned drink in his hand that seemed to have the same bottomless properties as the cereal bowl and seemed to be lost in his own world, unaware of his surroundings – or so he would have liked to be. The amphitheatre brought back magnificent memories of times past and the wonderful plays and glorious tragedies enacted upon the stage. Back then it was all about the various and entertaining ways in which the mortals would be punished. He would have liked to relive those special times, but the slow, drawn out crunch of the cereal kept bringing him back into the reality of faded glories.

They had each been asked to appear here and would not have done so for anything other than the sheer curiosity of what their missing member could possibly want to discuss or get from them. But curiosity can only hold an interest for so long before it vanishes and though no one spoke, they each knew that they would all leave relatively quickly if he did not make his appearance soon.

As if hearing their thoughts spoken out into the open, the last remnants of the elongated shadows were drawn to a single point at the top steps of the amphitheatre, pooling together and then sickly bubbling as a pale figure in dark clothing slowly rose from within the dark, shadowy soup. As the figure formed and took on a solid shape everything in the area was affected by his presence and bearing, the surroundings growing colder and darker. A flair for theatrics seemed to take precedent within the family as he had just as much skill making a grand entrance as his brothers, though his took on a darker, subtler tone that would leave one breathless and aghast, though not from fear initially... that would come last.

The awe came from the smooth and graceful movements that one would never have expected. The majesty of every move calm and calculated, to draw the eyes of every being present. The three present on the stage had all stopped what they were doing to observe this feast for the eyes, if it was anyone else it would most likely be their last meal. He descended the steps, drawing closer with each footfall, every move not without purpose. Not a sound was heard as his feet touched the ground. The closer he got to the stage the more the pressure of the ambiance seemed to be building. He lifted his head to survey those before him, an analytical glare that deconstructed people to their core. He had them mesmerised, they just didn't know it. He knew that in a few moments they would feel the unfamiliar hand of death making its way up along their spine. Its fingers moving along with deliberate sluggishness until it settled around their necks, the cold seeping into their very bones, leaving them frozen on the spot.

He looked away as if he had just realised the reason for his arrival and made his way onto the stage. The wind whispered through the aisles, caressing dry leaves and their rustling echoing as light spattering of applause from the audience as the final member of the ensemble made his appearance. The play could finally begin. Act I, Scene I.

The pudgy man advanced on him threateningly, clearly not pleased. Raising his hand, he threw the can he had been subconsciously sipping out of moments before, trapped in his repeating reverie. Tall and lean, the man nonchalantly sidestepped the incoming beverage and watched its trajectory to see where it landed. Just before it could touch the ground, a shadow rippled underneath the can and then the can vanished, swallowed by the shadow. It emerged seconds later from a shadow behind the pudgy man, completing its trajectory by promptly hitting him in the back of the head. He smiled to himself. Headshot.

The pudgy man staggered, a little dazed by the unusual events and certainly not used to being hit in the head by flying beverages. Regaining his senses he rounded upon the lean man, "What are you playing at!?" he yelled.

"Well, we were playing a strange game involving flying canned drinks, which I can safely say I won without contest," he said apathetic to the pudgy man's rage. "That headshot was worth 10 points at least and the look on your face, well, that was priceless. Otherwise I am not too sure what you are going on about."

Indifferent to the grown man throwing a tantrum, the two women stepped forward, not wanting things to continue any further without some clear answers to this strange gathering and the intent of that macabre entrance. Silencing the pudgy man with a glare, they turned their steely gazes upon the lean man. It was no time to act like some spoiled little child, he might be joking around now, but that power was all too real. To make his kin fear the touch of death like some mere mortal was not the kind of clout any of them should have, especially over each other. The heavens forbid what would happen if the king were to find out.

The woman with the bun spoke, her voice deathly even, indicating a clear desire for no funny business. She said but one word, "Explain." She had never seen this side of him, but somehow she knew that this was the real him, untainted and unfiltered. She had observed him over millennia, she had complained about him for millennia, she had forced cereal upon him for millennia, but she would never have expected it to be some ruse constructed so perfectly that the whole family believed that persona to be him. He might look relatively the same, but this was a completely different person they were dealing with. Unhindered by the sulkiness that usually hung about him and the rage that bubbled quietly beneath the surface.

"So the games are over then? Well I suppose we should end them before they get too intense, some people can get a bit too competitive," the lean man said as he looked over the two women standing in his path and motioning with his head toward the indignant pudgy man. "Maybe we could have had another round some other time, but do make note that I won the opening contest," he reluctantly admitted. "What sort of game were we playing anyway?"

"Explain," the other woman repeated, her voice carrying as much power as she could imbue it with.

The lean man smiled to himself as he directed his attention towards her. "Oh don't worry dear, I will. Let's first just take a moment to soak up the atmosphere. Did you ever visit this amphitheatre, maybe see a couple tragedies? I used to come and see one now and then, sat right there," he pointed to the middle of the middle row. "Always amazed at how those tragedies ended. I used to think 'Oh these mortals, when are they ever going to learn?' Sometimes I still do, you know? Like when some of them act like their lives really matter in the greater scheme of things. Don't get me wrong, there are those exceptional individuals that come around now and then that cause ripples to turn into waves, but those are very few and far between. Honestly, if I had not been witness to them I'd pass them all off as nonsense."

She gasped quietly to herself as she realised that her power had had no effect on him and had not succeeded in swaying him in the least. She was more taken aback by the verbal onslaught she and her companions found themselves under. Never had she heard this man express himself as much as he did now, and from no further prompting from their side other than the need for an explanation. Allowing her shock to fade into the background, she realised the full gravity of what he had just done. In need of some validation or assurance, she turned to look at her female companion, one of the few beings to spend an extended amount of time anywhere near him. Her fear spiked at the look of complete and utter bewilderment etched across her companions face. She had hoped for something more than that, honestly anything would have been better. She found none.

"Don't worry," the lean man said. "I am not here to harm any of you; I swear it on the Styx." The rumble of distant thunder confirmed what he had just said. "Not that it means much anyway," he said clapping his hands together as if he were bringing some sort of closer to what had just happened as he surveyed each of them in turn.

Unable to break free of his pace the two women found themselves numbly nodding along, though the pudgy man got this weird glint in his eye, as if he had just been presented with an opportunity. Before he could act upon this impulse the lean man spoke, "Since the games are over, I suppose we should get down to business," the last ebbs of humour and playfulness leaving his voice full of authority and unnaturally calm or bored, it could be either.

The pudgy man faltered. All thoughts of getting his own back vanished as if suddenly smacked by realisation. _DON'T DO IT! You do NOT want to mess with him!_ realisation screeched at him before kicking him in the shins and running away.

"You all have something that I have need of," a simple statement with many repercussions, "I am not here to force you to my whims, but to seek your voluntary assistance and I will do something in return, but we must agree upon it. Before I continue, I would like you to swear an oath on the Styx that not a word uttered hereafter will reach another living soul." The lean man paused; surveying the faces of the three who stood before him with no doubt that they would all agree.

They were thoughtful. Running the words through their heads, slowly chewing and digesting every word he had said and noting the peculiar flavour (was that a zest of lemon?). It wasn't a trap – that was clear. They had choices set out before them and there was a massive loophole in his wording so glaring that it was doubtful any of them had missed it. Outright refuse and have nothing to do with this, agree to his terms and decide what to do after hearing his scheme or jump into the backseat and stick along for the ride. Exchanging glances, the three had all telepathically chosen to first hear him out and make their choice afterwards. Directing their attention back to the lean man, who had patiently and graciously allowed them a few moments to contemplate, they nodded their heads in consent and recited the oaths binding them to silence on the matter.

The lean man lightly chuckled to himself, it was all coming together. All that was needed now was a little coercion on his part, something he never doubted for a second. "Excellent," he mused as he took a quick glance toward the heavens, illuminated by the scattering of stars and the silvery luminescence of the moon. "To get straight to the point, I have spent epochs silently observing, surveying and waiting on certain individuals, all the while playing my role and fulfilling what I was required to do. I have provided the benefit of the doubt on many an occasion hoping for a change – a paradigm shift, if you will – and I had thought that moment had arrived with the presence of a certain demigod and his friends. Alas, it was not so, as mere months afterwards everything went back to how it had been, maybe even worse so, despite the efforts of some. I asked for you here tonight to grant you a chance and a possibility. Understand that it is all or nothing, each of you must consent and in doing so bear witness to the fall of the old regime and the rise of a new age."

So the opening scene drew to a close as leaves rustled between the steps of an empty amphitheatre, save for those advancing the plot upon the stage. The others were swept along with what he had to say and who could blame them? The man was an orator, reading and gauging their reactions as if it were a book. So taken in were they that they had failed to notice the gradual passing of the crescent moon hovering over the horizon, a sliver of a sly smile beginning its journey across the heavens, and the consequences that it would have. History would remember this night; he had made sure of that. The night of the Delphi Pact.

ΔΙΟ.ΟΙΔ

 **Years later…**

The forest was quiet and still, unusually so. Not a breeze in the air nor the rustle of leaves. The only sounds that could be heard if one listened close enough was the slight crunch of boots on the blanket of snow and the disturbance of a few branches as they briefly scraped against fabric. And soon enough, even those little sounds ceased as the hunter paused to signal her companion. They had been tracking their prey for a few days and had just got tantalisingly close. Her anticipation of the conclusion of the hunt was reaching its peak, but she had to calm herself. The conditions that the day had presented them were far from ideal for any hunter. Without the aid of the wind and hardly any other creatures around, sound would travel quite a bit further than it usually would and no such chances would be taken concerning their prey. Yet this was a facet of the hunt that she most certainly enjoyed. A challenge that she had yet to encounter, while also serving as a test for her accomplice.

After the brief pause, the two moved off again in opposite directions in the hope of flanking their prey. Rounding the trunk of an ancient tree, frozen stiff with ice, she found what had taken them days to finally meet. Nestled in the hollow at the base of a tree was the largest white tiger she had ever seen. It had paws the size of her head. Long, lithe limbs. Muscles that bulged beneath the skin, hidden under a luxuriously magnificent coat. Ice blue eyes with vertical pupils that signalled that this glorious creature was born and refined here, that it belonged here. All of this was regally relaxed in the hollow of the tree, as if it was lazily awaiting on some servants to come and tend to its needs. The hunter stood there taking in the sight, knowing that this would be her finest trophy, the centrepiece of her showroom. She took the bow off her back and notched an arrow. She would have to make this quick. Such a beautiful creature deserved as much, but also because she did not want to ruin the pelt unnecessarily. The longer the fight went on, the greater the chance that there would be some undue damage. She pulled back the arrow and held her breath.

Then the clouds rolled in, not even bothering to ominously gather in the distance for a few hours, and unleashed their downpour upon all and sundry unfortunate enough to be outdoors. The rain created dimples in the snow and the winds raged between the trees, bending them to their will, knocking snow and ice from the branches and blowing the scent of the would-be hunters directly at the tiger. Artemis chanced a looked up at the sky and sighed. She wondered what could have set her father off this time. That momentary action was all it took for the beast to vanish. She turned back too late to fire off her nocked arrow, knowing that she would not be able to pursue as long as her father kept up this storm.

Her companion approached from where he had been observing the situation. His snowshoes made muted crunching noises as he advanced. He was wearing something similar to what Artemis wore, an insulated jacket with a hood and pants along with a pair of hiking boots. Their clothes had splotches that varied from white to grey to assist them in integrating with their environment. On his head he wore a beanie, diagonally divided into grey and white, and a pair of reflective sunglasses. His hands were bare, like hers, for better use of spear and other miscellaneous weapons he had secreted on his person. As he got closer his spear glowed and then vanished before he spoke with a smile playing on his lips. "Face it, that tiger just hit the jackpot."

Artemis looked over at him, unpleasantly befuddled, exasperated and repulsed by his smile. It was something she would not grow used to and it continued to creep her out and brew a conflict of emotions within her, because the smile on Ares' face was a genuine one. Not filled with bloodlust or the anticipation of a fight, but a genuine smile reflecting how content he had become, not even upset by the interruption of the hunt and the escape of their prey.

Artemis was not as unperturbed by the situation as him. The wind tugged at her hair, whipping it this way and that as her mood began to reflect that of the weather. "That tiger was going to be my centrepiece! There had better be a good reason for this interruption. It took us long enough to find the damn thing and now we're going to have to do it again."

Ares looked up at the gathered, grey clouds darkening the sky, his sunglasses shielding his eyes from the rain and said, "I think it probably is, in his opinion at least. Enough so that it's raining so hard the water hasn't even had the opportunity to turn into snow."

"It's undoubtedly something ridiculous and irrational, like Hera having an affair. Ha, imagine that," Artemis said as her bow glowed and disappeared in a manner similar to Ares and his spear.

Ares snorted before he said, "The possibility of that happening is about as much as you giving up your chastity."

Artemis chuckled along with Ares at the illogical probability of it all before once again turning her eyes to glance up at the roiling clouds. "We had better go before we are forcibly summoned to the inevitable meeting and to avoid the possibility of drowning in this forest," she said as thunder began to rumble across the sky and lightning fizzed from cloud to cloud before breaking free and arcing towards one of the trees.

"Yeah," Ares concurred. "If it's this bad, something really must have happened."

They both nodded to each other before lighting up the area briefly and vanishing.

ΔΙΟ.ΟΙΔ

Athena was not enjoying herself, she rarely did these days. She had enough on her plate without her father adding his buffet size problems as well. Athena was making her way through the palace, dressed comfortably in a pair of old whitewash jeans and a light pastel top, admiring her work as she moved along. Her loose blonde curls occasionally fell into her eyes as she made mental notes about all the areas that could use a touch up as well as those where she could incorporate some of her newer designs and ideas, as she pushed the glassed perched upon her nose back into place. She turned down a long, singular passage that contained almost nothing but art. The marble tiles sparkled despite the situation outside. Statues, dotted here and there, stood to either side in an amalgamation of differing sizes and poses. From the tastefully coloured walls hung a myriad of tapestries, paintings and the occasional stick figure scrawls of some artfully inclined toddlers. At the end of the passage she encountered a set of stairs leading up to what she knew was the most secluded room in the palace. The passage she had just walked through was the only way to the room (unless you were a god), so whoever had business there would have no choice but to make themselves known. At the top of the stairs was the only entrance to the room and in front of the door stood two of Zeus' most trusted guards. Hold on, two? Normally the entrance to the room was guarded as well as the bottom of the stairway leading up to the room.

This illogical break from the norm piqued Athena's curiosity and always urged on to satisfy this need, Athena began to ascend the stairs at a rate not recommended for any sort of mortal being. In no time at all she had succeeded in climbing the few hundred steps up to the room's landing. There she found what she had expected to find downstairs, two guards meant to repel any sort of unsavoury intruder.

To her right stood the embodiment of strength and power, Kratos. Honestly he was the macho man's definition of a macho man. A heavy set muscular body with complementary battle scars and a matching set of chest hair and a full beard, not combed into a glorious, unruly mess. He radiated strength even when he did not want to and had to be provided everyday amenities that had been reinforced in some way. For instance his toothpaste had ended up on the ceiling on multiple occasions because the tube was simply too flimsy and the straps of his sandals snapped when he was putting them on, or if he had succeeded in getting them on they would then break some time during the day or he would wear the soles out as he moved around. He had ripped through so many shirts that he hardly ever bothered to put one on anymore. Kratos was a jovial guy and Athena had not met anyone with a mean or discriminating thing to say about him. With a bottomless pit for a stomach, he was always pestering the servants in the kitchen for extra meals. According to him, one needed to have at least nine meals, excluding snacks. These included the normal breakfast, lunch and dinner as well as pre-breakfast breakfast, post-breakfast breakfast, pre-lunch lunch, post-lunch lunch and pre-dinner and post-dinner.

On Athena's left stood someone she tried to avoid at all costs and if she did meet her, she always tried to have Kratos around. Her name was Bia and as the embodiment of force and violence she had caused quite a few issues around the palace, so much so that she had to be shadowed by Kratos to prevent any further incidents. Athena had yet to find something that did not annoy her and she had injured so many beings that an infirmary was added just for her victims. One individual had been sent there because his breathing had gotten on her nerves. They now made it a point to not put anyone with an expiry date anywhere near her. Bia looked unkempt to say the least, with her dark wild hair and flecks of dried blood under her fingernails. She had a predilection for spiked clothing (which she sharpens herself) and steel capped boots (makes it significantly easier to part someone's teeth from their face). All of this went perfectly well with her death glare. When she turned that gaze on her unfortunate victims, they all froze in place as if she was Medusa herself. Her eyes were the coldest, most desolate shade of blue. Devoid of any semblance of empathy or care. Like being abandoned in the middle of the Arctic tundra with nothing but the sight of the bleak, cloudless, hollow sky. Barely illuminated in the weak sunlight. Surrounded by the endless expanse of white encompassing the entire horizon with barley anything resembling a ripple or bulge in a smooth, powdered wasteland.

Athena subconsciously found herself shirking away from Bia as she got closer to the door. If she could have avoided this meeting she would have done so at all costs just not to be anywhere near Bia. Not bothering Bia because she did not want the unnecessary attention and even if she did greet she wouldn't get much more than silence in return. Turning her focus towards Kratos she warmly greeted him, "Greetings Kratos. Do you have any idea about what has occurred?"

Kratos smiled at her as he boomed out a response, even though she wasn't more then a few meters away. "Greetings," he rumbled in a gravelly reply. His voice was like the crunch of car tires as they drove over gravel, just exponentially louder. As if someone had turned the volume up to max on the recording equipment and it now sounded like a pair of massive boulders bouncing their way down a rocky outcrop. "I do have an idea, but it would be more practical to ask inside. Just ready yourself before you go in. This is the angriest I have seen him in millennia."

Kratos ushered her to the door and as she passed he patted her on the shoulder. Immediately Athena felt her body surge with power and strength, buzzing around inside her as if she had had been set to vibrate so as not to disturb anyone in the meeting. Looking over and thanking him with a nod and making note of his warning, Athena crossed the threshold and entered the meeting room to find that apart from Zeus and his wife, she was the only one to have arrived. Hera sat stoned faced in a sleeveless satin blue dress with her long hair pulled back, next to her husband, looking like none of this really affected her as she waited for everyone to turn up. Zeus looked calm enough, dressed in a white suit accented with gold trimming. His hair styled back and his beard cut short and neat. But then Athena began to notice the minor details. The windows rattled at random intervals as gale force winds whipped the rain into them incessantly. Zeus was gripping the armrests of his seat as if he was restrained with powerful magnets. The wood cracked and splintered from his iron grip. And it took a moment to notice due to the little boost she had received from Kratos, but the air inside the room hummed with power. Athena had no doubt the room was charged with static electricity, helped by the fact that unlike outside, the air was still with hardly any moisture. She did not question that if any mortal were foolish enough to enter at this moment they would be electrocuted from the mere fabric of their clothes rubbing against each other. The biggest give away though were the flashes of lightning that arced along his body randomly. Honestly it was a bit mesmerising to watch as flashes of light crackled along his beard towards his chin before disappearing, only to have another reappear and make its way from one eyebrow to the next.

Since she was the first to arrive, Athena decided to pick the seat furthest away from the angry lightning man who was doing his best impression of what he thought a human bug zapper would look like. If any of them had any inkling of her presence in the room, they made no greetings or movements to indicate they had. Zeus seemed to be struggling to ensure that he did not lose control while inside the room and Hera was lost in her own reverie. Realising that none of them would be of any use to answer her questions and not being one to waste an opportunity, Athena she would read to pass the time until the other members of this little meeting arrived.

Summoning a book from the vast horde that occupied her library, Athena settled in to read. Just as she was about to open the book, Artemis and Ares appeared in the room, well saturated from the onslaught that Zeus had summoned. Athena, clearly not pleased by their arrival, huffed and turned towards them. "You know you have such great timing."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I know we're late," she said clearly picking up on Athena's sarcasm, but still missing the point.

Athena sighed to herself, convinced that it was not worth the effort. "Just hurry up and do something about your clothes. You're dripping on the floor."

Only after had they swapped out their wet clothes for dry ones did Ares and Artemis realise the state that Zeus and Hera were in. Neither had uttered a word the whole time. Not even to make a complaint. And that pricked at their fears more than anything else.

Still seemingly unaware that everybody had gathered Athena decided that now would be a good time to try and get some answers. "Father," she called out trying to bring him back to reality. "Everybody's here. Will you tell us what happened?"

Athena had barely spoken above a whisper, but Zeus shot out his seat like she had been shouting at him through a megaphone. Though equally startled at his sudden movements, Athena could relate. She'd had numerous occasion where she was concentrating so intently on something that interested her that it seemed like her surroundings became dimmed and blurred, like everything else in the world ceased to matter or exist. It was always disconcerting when she was pulled back into the mundane tediousness of reality.

Zeus had gathered all of his bearings and was informing his wife that everyone had arrived. If Hera was startled, she didn't show it. But she did seem to be trying to focus, like a camera lens adjusting for a picture. Blurring in and out, trying to pay attention but constantly zoning out. She made the effort, but her mind was clearly somewhere else. From his actions, Zeus seemed calm enough, but the rain outside refuse to let up and lightning still arced around his body every now and then. His mind was clearly still somewhere else as he stared blankly at the wall opposite his seat for a few moment before he cleared his throat and began to address them. "Right… yes. Now that we are all here, we need to do something about Hades. I am open to suggestions."

He looked around the table expectantly, but he only got shocked, blank stares in return due to his sudden bombshell.

Artemis reined in her wits and spoke up. "Hold on. Where did this Hades business come from? Can we back up a little and hear the whole story and _then_ plot the downfall of the Lord of the Underworld?"

"Right…" said Zeus as he realised he had skipped a few steps and left out some minor details. "Brad and Marc are in the infirmary. We don't know what's wrong or what happened, but hopefully they will remember something when they wake up. I'm not saying it was Hades (which it was), but I'm not saying it was not him either (which it definitely was)."

"And how did we jump to blaming it on Hades?" questioned Athena. "We haven't had any contact with the others since this whole mess started and that was almost a century ago. We have tried entering before but the domain laws come into effect, so the same should apply for him. Honestly it does not make logical sense to blame it on him."

Zeus turned his attention towards her, the lightning arcing around his body grew more violent, leaping off his person and creating scorch marks upon the table they were all seated around. He spoke, his voice low as he hissed at her through his clenched teeth, "Don't you dare question me about this. I know it was him and I don't need logic to explain that. Nothing about this whole situation is logical. If he can do what he did that night he can certainly target someone sitting hundreds of kilometres in the air outside of his domain."

Ares nodded, agreeing with him. "Trying to apply logic to what we currently find ourselves in is cute, but if we are going to do anything about what happened to the boys or about our situation we'll first need some answers."

Athena bristled at Ares' comments. Out of everyone seated here she understood their situation the most. As far as she knew (which was saying a lot) she was the only one looking for a way to return things to the way they had been. Turning here steely gaze upon him, she started to recite the tirade she had composed and memorised for such an occasion. "Listen here you-"

Before she could even begin her meticulously thought out insults, there was a knock on the door. Everyone's attention turned towards the sound as if an intruder had just burst through the door. Even Hera's, as if she was waiting anxiously for this moment. The door slowly opened to reveal one of the castle servants. A young woman stood there with shoulder length chocolate brown hair looking as if she would wet herself at any moment. Ignoring her rattled state (it was a common sight when anyone found themselves in Bia's presence and she was handling it better than most) Zeus spoke up. "Yes, what is it?"

"I was informed to tell you of any change concerning your sons-"

She never got to finish her sentence as immediately after hearing that it concerned the boys Hera had flashed out of the room without warning. All that remained of the unfortunate servant was a smouldering pile of ash where she had once stood. Athena, Artemis and Ares appeared stunned for a few moments as they processed what had just happened. Hera knew that they had been trying to cut down the number of deaths induced by witnessing a god's divine form. In fact, they had been on a record run since the last mortal had perished. This was largely due to the Divine Protocols they had instated and compulsory health and safety classes for all mortal beings concerning what to do to ensure that they survive when interacting with a god.

Zeus looked down at the remains with a frown creasing his brow before calling in Kratos.

"Yes, My King."

"Get someone to clean this up," was all he said before leaving in a blinding flash himself.

ΔΙΟ.ΟΙΔ

In the infirmary Zeus found Hera seated in between the beds occupied by the dark haired twin brothers, holding their hands as tears dripped down her face in relief and happiness at their wellbeing. Hera, unable to keep her eyes on both of them at once, looked back and forth from one to the other with a small smile. The weight of her worry had started to show in her appearance. Grey had started to creep into the soft, dark curls of her hair and her flawless skin began to look fatigued, with wrinkles creasing her brow and crinkling at the corners of her eyes. Taking in the sight before him, Zeus approached and rested his hand comfortingly on Hera's shoulder, letting her know that he was there if she needed him. Continuing to silently shed tears, Hera squeezed the hands she held reassuringly and softly whispered to them, "I'm just so glad you're alright."

Brad and Marc looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes before telling her the same thing, at the same time, "We know Mom. Thanks."

Zeus had hoped to give them some time relax and collect themselves, but he knew that the sooner he had any information about what happened, the quicker he could do something about this Hades problem for the first time in almost a century. Looking down at his sons with a fondness he hardly ever displayed, he asked them, "Do you remember anything about how you two landed up here?" he said with a little gesture to indicate the sparse furnishings of the infirmary.

Once again, the two of them shared a quick look as if confirming their stories before launching into their spiel. Marc started off, "We were fooling around somewhere-"

"-Insignificant. And then we heard this unusual sound," and Brad continued.

"There was this random caw-"

"-Or squawk."

"Or squawk and the flapping wings of some bird-"

"-That sounded like it was in a fight."

"We went to go and check out what it was-"

"-But when we got there, there was only this present and-"

"-A few of these black feathers."

At this point Zeus felt like he needed to step in. "Wait… hold on. You two are telling me you randomly found a present. Like a gift wrapped box with a bow?"

"Yeah," said Brad, "a present."

"Or a gift," Marc followed.

"Depends who you ask. With-"

"-A nametag. Addressed to-"

"-Us. So we picked it up and-"

"-Opened it."

"So you two thought it was perfectly normal to find a random package with no one in sight and open it?" questioned Zeus. Once they got well enough he was going to have them spend a lot more time with Athena.

"Well, yeah," said Brad.

"It had our names on it," said Marc.

"We opened the lid and-"

"-Something hit us."

"Knocked the wind-"

"-Right out."

"Everything became blurred and the world-"

"-Tilted. We heard that cawing-"

"-Or squawking."

"Or squawking again before we-"

"Passed out."

* * *

 **AN: Hey guys.**

 **This is my first fic. I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while and I finally decided to write it out… months ago.**

 ***Ahem* Well, never mind that. I have a general idea about where I want to take this, but I am open to ideas and feedback. Maybe some of you can help me fill in the details. If you have any parts that you like or dislike, let me know. I'd like to hear your opinions and thoughts.**

 **Right… that's about everything I wanted to say… BYE!**

 **Awesome Montage Music: Dinosaur by Jax Panik**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Percy lay slump against the couch as if someone had just taken him off and thrown him over the couch to deal with later. He looked over at the hoodie laying draped over the couch next to him and felt the feeling inside him resonate with the hoodie. If someone were to ask him what it felt like to be a hoodie, he had no doubt that he could explain the deep and mind blowing intricacies of what it is like to be a hoodie. The pressure of contorting to another's form at a whim, the feeling of losing sustenance and shape when removed, the inability to function without the support of others, the disappointment of being looked over in favour of another. It was amazing that he had failed to notice the hardships and pressures that millions of hoodies faced on a daily basis. He had failed to recognise their struggles, their pain. He promised himself he would never act like one of those monsters out there, forcing hoodies to bend to their will. No, his association with his hoodie would be consensual, symbiotic. He would be different. He would be the champion and advocate for hoodies around the world, starting with his own.

Reaching over and donning his blue hoodie, he felt a sense of companionship flow between him and his hoodie and the beginning of a bond forged in the flames of friendship that would last lifetimes. He smiled to himself at this new comradery and outlook on the world when his eye caught the reason he had delved into the depths of himself to find out what it really meant to be a hoodie in a society that did not recognise them for what they are.

The couch he lay draped across was facing a wall, and on that wall was an amalgamation of colours and tones that swept and flowed from one to the other so naturally that it was difficult to focus on the painting as a whole. The hues of the colours swept across the wall, clashing and warring with one another before converging and circling each other only to separate and threaten to overwhelm each other once more. The calm and serene stillness of a sea green being interrupted by the gathering of an angry grey marked with a splash of the deepest black. Swirling vortexes of grey, red, pink, bronze, gold, silver, purple and others bursting forth from the centre of a colour collage collection that baffled and bewildered the mind.

To the few who had gazed upon this colourful collection, it was a stunning piece of art that deserved its own exhibition or to be secreted away for only those worthy enough to gaze upon. The choice of the colours and the flow between them was astonishing and left individuals marvelling. However, it is important to consider that this piece was, as yet, unfinished. It was amazing to ponder what the complete version would do unto those caught unaware. There was one person though, who felt annoyed and frustrated by this piece stretching across the wall and he was currently sitting in front of it.

Percy had spent ages trying to figure out this painting. He had analysed it from different angles, he had looked at it from different distances, he had assumed the most peculiar perspectives and yet the answer he was looking for still eluded him. There was something about this painting that he needed to figure out. He knew it was more than it pretended to be and that it held greater meaning buried somewhere beneath the deceptive sway of a colourful line. That meaning, though, continued to elude him. He had searched for it so long that he had become obsessed trying to resolve any sense from the wall before him. He needed to know what this painting was hiding and it was all the more frustrating given that he was the one who painted it. His situation was such that it led to his current predicament of blankly staring at the same stretch of wall, hoping to discover something new. Unfortunately this method had not really worked out as planned and only led to him recently developing the realisation of what it would be like to be a hoodie.

Faced once again with this taunting enigma, he dove back into the depths of his mind and soul to contemplate an answer that would not show itself. This time was different though. He did so, safe in the knowledge that he was not alone, that he had support shaped around him in the form of his hoodie. A protective barrier against those who might try to thwart him.

"…-cy."

Hmm. What was that? It's like someone calling out to him form the edge of the universe.

"…-ercy."

The voice became less muffled, the ringing in his ears softer. It was familiar, drawing him toward it, closer and closer as if the sirens were trying to get him.

"Percy!"

The dull melodious lilt of the sound vanished as the sudden shout shocked him out of his stupor. Snapping back into reality, he jolted off the couch in surprise before catching sight of a pair of boots from his new position on the floor. Shifting a bit so that he could see the face of his assailant, he found a pair of forest green eyes glaring down at him, framed by a curtain of light brown hair and he did the only thing he could think of in this predicament. He smiled and waved.

The smile slowly slipped off his face as he realised what she held in her hands. A spoon and a plastic cup. Jumping up in disbelief he looked down at the empty plastic cup in her hand. Tearing his eyes away from the tragedy she held, he looked into her eyes with betrayal and hurt evident on his features and spoke three words, "How could you?"

"Percy, it was sitting there forever. Look, it was about to expire, but I understand. It's a hell of a thing taking somebody's pudding," she said squinting and looking off into the distance.

He dropped back onto the couch in shock. The brief energy spurt that he had dissipated into the ether. The knowledge that the pudding he once had was now gone made life seem so pointless. What good was it to struggle on, when having been dealt such a devastating blow?

Watching him sink into the miasma of his swirling emotions, April felt that it was time to get him out of this room. Almost all of his free time these days was spent in this room, staring blankly at that painting. Sure it was an amazing painting, but he felt as if there was something deeper and meaningful lurking beneath the strokes upon the wall. This wasn't getting him anywhere or doing him any good. She thought a pudding blow like that would've gotten him out of this self-induced stupor. Looking at the results spread out on the couch… she might have gone a pudding too far.

She watched him whisper to his hoodie (?) and decided that she needed to get him out of here. Obsessing over something you can't have is never good. She had tried to explain this to her dad and the rest of them, but when you're a god and can have anything by just wiggling your toes, the concept of something they can't get is, ironically, the thing they can't get. They had actually sent her here to get Percy. They wouldn't tell her why, only that it concerned him. With the state he was in, April decided that she would take Percy on a little detour before she had to take him to his summons. Knowing them, they wouldn't mind at all and would certainly find some way to pass the time.

Grabbing his hands and standing on his feet, she leaned back in an effort to get him up. For all the effort it took her, Percy was the one groaning as she forced him to his feet. When he was standing up somewhat under his own power, she guided him along by his hand forcing him to shuffle after her.

"Nooo," Percy moaned as he let her pull him along. "Where are we going?"

She smiled to herself as she told him, "Only your favourite place in the palace."

"Are we going to the training arena?"

"No."

"The combat arena?"

"No."

"The pool?"

"No."

"The bathroom?"

"No, Percy. Honestly, only you would not know what your favourite place is. You used to be to be in and out of the place constantly before you started that stupid painting," she ended somewhat bitterly.

"So we are going to the bathroom?"

"No. Seriously Percy, there is something wrong with you if the bathroom is your favourite place in the palace."

"I don't think so. It's definitely up there. Those baths are amazing"

"Well yeah. Definitely top five, but it's still not top of the list," she said as the neared a set of white double doors, "this is."

She reached out with her free and pushed open the doors to reveal a spotless (kind of), professional, state of the art kitchen. Top quality stoves and ovens lined one wall, with an island set up in the centre for all of the different slicing, dicing and chopping, tenderising, decapitating, dismembering and other miscellaneous kitchen verbs. A heavy set industrial door was set into the other wall and served as the entrance to the walk in fridge, which was overflowing with the finest quality ingredients. Everything that was supposed to look fresh was really fresh, everything that looked crisp was really crisp and everything that looked expensive was really expensive. Apart from all the regular things one would expect in a kitchen, there were a few things that weren't.

In one corner sat a 'food synthesizer'. With all the technological prowess available to them, they had greenlit a project to recreate a machine that could reproduce food or drink from the liquid in the air. What it did sounded simple, but was a highly complicated process. As a person approached the machine it would analyse their taste buds, their metabolism and map their neural pathways in order to produce an end product that would completely satisfy that specific person. Unfortunately it did not go down as well as was hoped. The machine sat in the corner, gathering dust as if to hide itself in shame and away from all the disappointed glares. The machine had no problem creating the order of what someone wanted, but all that complicated analysis and neural mapping was rendered redundant when it produced a sandwich that was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike a BLT.

In a similar state of dust covered shame sat the 'molecular adjuster'. This device had come the same department that had created the food synthesizer and was the last invention before the department was disbanded and the members banned from ever combining food and technology again. The molecular adjuster didn't do anything as overtly complicated as the food synthesizer. It did what is clearly stated on the label. Adjust the molecules of the food to heat it or freeze it to the ideal temperature almost instantly. It was like a microwave only on a higher power scale and it worked in reverse. When a microwave heats something up, it excites the molecules in the food and the energy produced comes off as heat. Instead of doing that it instantly vaporised any food into little burnt chunks of hate and contempt. When the freezing setting was tried it simply refused to freeze anything other than foods that were already frozen, as if to demonstrate that it could freeze things, but it wouldn't out of pure spite.

In between all of the food and equipment bustled the kitchen staff. The kitchen was one of the few areas in the palace that was always busy. No matter what time of day or night, they were always there to provide a warm meal for an empty belly (which was their actual motto). It also seemed like one of the requirements for the kitchen staff was a friendly disposition, as every one of their members would welcome anyone with a smile and then fuss, hover and make sure that the meal was truly enjoyed.

Noticing that they had guests one of the staff members made his way over to them. Percy instantly recognised one of the few people that could instantly make his day better, no matter what the occasion. With a full, flushed face and a bristly moustache, Gino resembled the furriest tomato in a chef's hat Percy had ever seen. Already beaming at them as he approached, Percy couldn't help the smile that had slowly started to spread across his face to mirror Gino's own.

Reaching them, Gino pulled Percy into a bear hug. "Hey Percy, my man. Where you been these days? Without you around the fridge has been full to bursting."

"Yo Gino. I've just been busy," wheezed Percy as he patted Gino's elbow to set him down before he found out which would last longer under the pressure, his spine or his ribs.

"Oh yeah," challenged Gino, "what's been keeping a walking stomach like you outta the kitchen?"

"Hey Gino. You know that painting everyone's been talking about?" April explained as Percy doubled over to catch his breath. "He's been sitting in front of it staring at it for days."

"Hi. So it's that painting I've been hearing about. Haven't had a chance to look at it yet so tell me, how pretty is she?" asked Gino.

"What?" said Percy, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"The girl in this painting. What else could keep you from raiding the kitchen on a daily basis?" said Gino.

"There's no girl Gino. There isn't really a picture too, just some colourful lines at most," said Percy.

"Wow," exclaimed Gino in genuine astonishment, "a bunch of colourful lines kept Percy away. Man… I had no idea it was that serious."

"Yeah," said April nodding in agreement, "that's why we've come here to raid the kitchen. Mostly Percy though. I don't have the stomach for it."

"Well, your usual seat is always free. You better thank Donny for wiping it down every day, just look how spotless it is," said Gino as he led them over to a table that was set up in the kitchen.

Percy took his seat nodding at Gino's words, "I'll do just that. You guys are always too good to me."

"Damn straight," Gino said as he assumed a smug pose, "since this is a special occasion, I'll grab you a plate of the best."

"Don't I always get a plate of the best?"

"You know it," he said as he joined the bustle preparing the endless amount of food for the endless amount of mouths.

Percy chuckled to himself at Gino's antics and relaxed into his seat. It didn't take long before his fingers couldn't keep still and began playing with the edges of the serviettes set out for them. Not even a few minutes later, a plate was set before each of them and Percy began to dig in like his life depended on it. After a second helping to support the first, a third for backup and a fourth for moral support, his pace began to slow down and he finally noticed that April was watching him as she picked at the last few morsels left on her plate, moving them around absentmindedly.

"So," he said as he consumed the last few bites of food, "let's hear it." April was never one to do anything without having a reason and considering he was out of it for the last few days, he was willing to accept whatever she had to say.

"What are you looking for Percy?" she asked as her forest green eyes met his sea green ones.

"Huh?"

"That painting of yours. You're clearly looking for something. You've had us worried with the way you've been obsessed with it. Well the other three don't really show it, but Poseidon finally talked to me about how concerned he is. He honestly didn't know what to do," she said stabbing at an olive that kept squirming out from under the points of her fork and rolling away to compose itself and prepare for the next onslaught.

Percy had started fiddling with the end of another serviette as he listened to her, unable to meet her eyes as the guilt of making other people unnecessarily worry about him tugged at his conscience like a child in the unfortunate position of being caught up in his mother's shopping trip. "I'm sorry."

"Percy, look at me." He slowly raised his head and met her gaze once again. "No one is blaming you for anything. We're just worried about you and how obsessive you've become over this painting. I mean, it isn't like you to just sit there and stare at something let alone ignore the serious distress signals your stomach was giving off."

"Yeah," Percy said as he chuckled in agreement at April's last comment, "it's definitely not like me."

April allowed herself a smile as she tried again. "Yeah, definitely not. So I'll asked again, what are you looking for?"

Percy sighed to himself as he leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. "I know I've told you this before and my answer hasn't changed. You know that I can't draw to save my life, but listen to how everyone in the palace is talking about it. I might have painted that, but that wasn't me. There is more to that painting than I know, some sort of meaning or message hidden in it that I just can't figure out and I…"

April's eyebrows rose as she listen to Percy trail off, but she did not say anything, knowing that he would continue in his own time.

"I thought it might have something to do with my mother," he said as he furrowed his brow and twisted the ends of some serviettes together.

"Percy…," was all that April said as she reached out and wrapped her hands around his.

Percy had never known who his mother was and it usually did not bother or concern him most of the time. But every now and then he would try to find out more about her with little to no success so far.

"C'mon," she said as she dragged him up once again, "the guys said they wanted to talk to you about something. Have you ever considered asking Poseidon about your mother?"

Percy looked like he had just been hit by realisation. "No. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind."

April smiled at his daftness. Leave it to Percy to consider everything but the most obvious. "Well," she said without looking back at him as she continued to pull him along, "now's your chance."

ΔΙΟ.ΟΙΔ

As they made their way towards what one could call the throne room, April and Percy heard some sniffling and the blowing of noses as they got closer. April shot Percy an inquisitive look and he rolled his eyes as they walked through a massive set of double doors, embossed with four symbols arranged into a diamond, left wide open. A white marble pathway led to a circular chamber at the end. The pathway was lined on either side by clear crystal pillars filled with seawater, illuminated from underneath and depicting various important scenes from history with the most recent events being closest to the door. When one approached and watched, the images would cycle through the most important events of the epic like a gif. It was meant as a reminder. No matter what lay ahead, good or bad, the past is what supports us. It's what we're built upon. The depictions served as a lesson to not forget what history has taught us, to not repeat the mistakes of the past. Percy smiled as he looked upon a few of them that featured his dad. Whenever he had to visit the throne room, he would always take a moment to look them over before carrying on.

Making their way into the dim circular chamber, April and Percy found themselves faced with four gods trying to rein in their emotions. Hephaestus, with only some moist eyes and a bit of a nasal drip, was doing the best by far. Each seated on their own beanbag chair and facing the projected image of _Toy Story 3_ depicting the scene where the toys are about to be burned and have accepted their fate. Percy sighed to himself as he turned on the lights and paused the movie. He and April waited for a moment as they regained their composure.

"Guys," Percy said with an air of disbelief, "you've seen this before."

"I know," said Poseidon as he made a fist and put it against his heart, "it just gets me every time." Poseidon looked like a beach bum, tan with a closely trimmed beard and black, wavy hair. His outfit of a pair of flops, board shorts and a t-shirt depicting _The Great Wave off Kanagawa_ only served to further reinforce this.

Apollo nodded in agreement with Poseidon. "Yeah, I mean, I know what's coming but I always find myself unsure if they're going to make it." He looked almost as tan as Poseidon in his tight jeans and loosely buttoned shirt, accented with a few necklaces and sunglasses that rested on top of his head, keeping his blonde hair out of his eyes.

"Right! They just sit there, slowly sliding towards their doom knowing that they can't do anything to change the situation," Hermes consented with the other two. His dirty blonde hair had been neatly parted and brushed to one side, but it didn't really go along with his shorts and unzipped hoodie, with a t-shirt decorated with a winged high top shoe underneath.

Hephaestus, who had been nodding along sagely to what was being said, added his own brief piece. "We should bless those little aliens." His wild, black beard matched his slightly ruffled hair and did very little to ruin the mechanic image he had going with a pair of stained overalls, frayed at the edges.

"Dad, you know they are not real," said April hoping for a definitive yes.

"No," said Hephaestus stubbornly, "they are as real as I want them to be."

"Why are you here anyway? Did you just come here to kill the mood?" accused Hermes.

"No, you told me to bring Percy, remember?" she said as she nodded towards him.

Percy gave a little wave and said, "Hi."

Each of the gods looked at each other before turning back to her with puzzled faces, "Did we?"

"Yes," said April with an exasperated sigh, "but you wouldn't tell me why, which was clearly a grave error on my part for not insisting that you did."

Apollo's face lit up as he snapped his fingers. Literally, Percy could feel a warm glow from where he was standing. "Oh yeah. There was something for you," he said as he turned to face Percy.

There were a few seconds of silence as Percy waited for someone to make a move. "Well… where is it?"

"It was here a moment ago," Hephaestus grumbled as he squirmed around in his seat looking for it.

"We're not making this up," said Hermes following Hephaestus' lead and checking around his seat. "Trust me, it's not a prank. If it were, it would be way more meticulously planned and executed flawlessly."

"He's not lying," said Apollo backing up Hermes. April assumed that it was meant to be assuring, but it failed spectacularly to do just that.

April, having had enough of watching them squirm around in their seats, decided to get things moving along. "Ok! All of you up. You need to look properly and knowing you guys, one of you is probably sitting on it."

As they began to search for whatever it was, April told Poseidon that Percy had some questions for him. Tagging himself out and April into the search, he and Percy made their way back through the crystal lined pathway so that he could ask his questions in a somewhat more peaceful area, as the rustling and grumbling could still be heard from the chamber.

Outside of the chambers was a beautiful courtyard, filled with vibrant green and splashes of more exotic colours from plants Percy could barely name, rimmed by pillars and archways of blue-grey marble. Dotted around the courtyard were statues of the gods that were enchanted to sound just like the gods themselves and spout random quotes. The quotes, however, had very little consistency. They ranged from songs and movies to children's books and _Tumblr_ posts. There were more of Apollo and Hermes than of Poseidon and Hephaestus as they had competed to see who could set up more statues. That little competition was put to a halt when the statues started appearing around the palace and getting in the way. From the kitchen to the bathrooms and just randomly in the passages. It was put to a stop when one Hermes statue got into Hephaestus' workshop and quoted a _Tumblr_ post full of really bad puns and then began describing the accompanying gif in excruciating detail. He might have enjoyed smashing in the heads of all those unnecessary statues a little too much. Thankfully they hardly ever got a word out anymore, unless someone actually wanted to hear them say something.

Percy and Poseidon made their way over to a bench in front of a beautifully crafted fountain. The two of them sat down, but did not immediately start up a conversation. They just sat there, watching as the fountain played with the water and content to remain so. Poseidon closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the warmth of the light wash over him. After a few moments he spoke up. "It's different, you know?" he said softly.

Percy looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "What is?"

"The light, Percy. It's different down here," he answered, his eyes still closed in contentment.

"How?" Percy asked incredulous. "It's just Apollo doing his thing."

"No Percy. It is because it's Apollo. If you ever find yourself up there, you'll feel the difference and you will know what I mean."

Percy sighed to himself, still not really understanding what Poseidon was talking about. He was quite for a moment or two before he asked, "What was it like, you know, before everything happened and we landed up down here?"

Poseidon felt a grin tug at his lips as he cracked open a sea green eye, filled with mirth and mischief, to look at Percy. "Don't they tell you in your lessons? It's an important event. One of the pillars even depicts its tale."

"It's not like I don't pay attention." At this, Poseidon gave a little snort of disbelief. "It's just that you were there and you must have your own take and opinion on what happened."

"Well…" Poseidon began. "It's not like I know all the details, but I'll fill you in on what I know. It had been years since Gaia was defeated and after two prophecies that threatened the world, everybody felt like it was time for a break.

"Looking back, maybe we should have been kept a little more busy and alert. That lull allowed some of us to do some thinking. Maybe a little too much. One day, out of the blue, Zeus called an emergency meeting. He had been informed of a strange gathering of some of the Olympians in the ancient lands by Artemis and wanted to know their schemes and how they were plotting to dethrone him."

"That seems like the usual thing Zeus would do," Percy remarked, "but why had this meeting been held in the ancient lands? That's your old home in Greece, right?"

Poseidon nodded his head slowly, his eyes still closed. "Yes. Apparently, Hades had been meeting with some of the other gods. I do not know what they discussed in detail, but I suspect that they met where they did on purpose. You see Percy, whenever a god, regardless of who they may be or which mythology they are from, interacts with the mortal realm, they affect it in some way. Often their mere presence is enough to alter and affect their surroundings. Mortals are often attracted to places like these subconsciously, all over the world. One of the more obvious examples would be the island of Lemnos. It became consecrated to Hephaestus after he was thrown from Olympus and landed on the island. Just don't mention it around him or you'll be stuck listening to him go on about the forge he had set up there and the stash of weapons he had to leave behind when the Flame moved and how he had spent days trying to pick his favourite to take with him.

"Anyway, where was I…? Oh right. I think Hades met with the others in Greece because of something like that. Maybe he was searching for something or trying to find the right place. Greece is overflowing with godly power that still lingers long after we left. It is probably one of the reasons why so many monsters and beasts are still drawn to the place, even after we had made our home elsewhere.

"After engaging Kronos and the Titans and Gaia and the Giants – right those down, those are some good names for a band – and surviving, we were not all too vigilant about an assault from within, especially not with the type of demigods we had around then. Zeus summoned Hades, but the person who arrived was like him, but not."

Percy furrowed his brow in confusion at this. "Like he was Hades, but different?"

"Yeah," Poseidon said as he let out a little yawn. The warm light was starting to get to him and he was starting to feel like he needed to lay down for a quick nap. Just a quick, little four-hour nap. "Hades stood before us, but there was something off. Like the first time you looked it was fine, but then you would catch him out of the corner of your eye and need to make sure that it was still the same person.

"Zeus went with the usual bravado, 'I am your king and you will…' and so on and so forth. Hades did not even seem phased or interested. He looked at around the throne room, nodding at some of the others gathered there and brought something out of his pocket. I could not see it clearly because it was so small, but I remember this blinding light and then the whole throne room began to shake. I assume that everybody looked at me as if I had anything to do with it, but I can't honestly recall any of the details clearly. I remember feeling like the strength was being drained out of me, like there was a pressure slowly descending on me as pieces from the ceiling started to rain down upon us and pillars collapsed and broke. The Fates must have appeared somewhere in all of that. As I began to pass out I heard their voices echoing around the throne room – or maybe it could have been in my head. Their voices were ancient and dry, like dust cascading through time, _One for the sky… One for the sea… The last to remain._

"And then I woke up here… at the bottom of the ocean. It was not much of a problem until I noticed that Apollo, Hermes and Hephaestus were with me. Those days were some of the toughest we ever had to survive. Tougher than having to fight Typhon – _twice_. We were weak from whatever Hades had pulled. Sitting at the bottom of the ocean. If our concentration wavered for the briefest of moments, we would start to become intangible and slowly fade. Our only source of light was a weak glow that Apollo had managed after a few days. I don't know how long it took… years? Decades? But we slowly started to regain our powers. If it had been any later I don't know what would have happened. We created Neo Atlantis, but it aimed a target at us. The old gods of the sea saw this as an opportunity to strike. To seek vengeance against me and take back what was once theirs. We had to fight and when they were finally routed enough to hunt down, we sent out squads to deal with the stragglers.

"Your dad was in charge of one of the squads," said Poseidon as he opened his eyes to look directly at Percy. "He was sent out as the head of our most elite squad and he only returned months later - with you. We had assumed he was dead, that something must have got him. He wouldn't say what happened and whenever I asked about your mother, he would just stare back blankly. His eyes would dim a little, as if he was living in another time… another life."

Percy was quite. He sat there, letting everything stew around him as he absorbed the information and sifted through it. The way Poseidon told it was different from what he was told in his lessons. And what Poseidon knew about his mother was not much more than what he did. But he did get one very crucial piece of information from the tale – his mother wasn't from Neo Atlantis. Percy didn't know how, but there was this feeling and idea that had taken root and refused budge. His mother was beyond the ocean, from whatever was left on the surface.

As Percy was figuring all this all this out April spotted them from the garden entrance and began making her way over. Poseidon noticed her approach and stood up to stretch, nudging Percy with his elbow as he did so. Percy smiled up at him and quietly said "Thank you" before getting up and stretching himself.

"Hey," April said as she stopped in front of them. "You guys done?"

Percy stood there, staring at her a little too long. He could have sworn that Apollo must have been fooling around and done something with the light. It caught her at just the right angle, making her eyes shine and her skin glow as the breeze played with her hair. Her angular features questioning as she waited for his reply. _Beautiful_ was the only word echoing around Percy's head as he moved his jaw, trying to get anything passed his lips. Never mind that she only wore a tank top and some worn jeans covered in grease stains from helping her dad at his forge. Or that there was a smudge across the bridge of her nose that she had missed or forgot about.

Poseidon smiled knowingly and loudly cleared his throat while nudging Percy with his elbow again. "Yes. We are. Aren't we Percy?"

Coming out of his stupor, Percy awkwardly responded. "Y-yeah. What's up?"

"We found that present. Like they said, it really is for you," she said as she raised an eyebrow at his stiff demeanour.

"Well," said Poseidon a little too enthusiastically. "Let's go have a look at what's inside."

Following along behind him, April turned to Percy, "You get anything?"

"Not really," Percy said as he furrowed his eyebrows. "But I've got an idea."

Failing to elaborate, April did not force anything. Returning to the chamber of the throne room, they found Apollo, Hermes and Hephaestus staring down at a little box decorated with a bow and a little tag. Noticing their entrance Apollo looked up with a megawatt smile and waved them over enthusiastically. Picking up the box and tossing it over to Percy he said, "Told you we weren't making it up."

Percy caught it and raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised you didn't try and open it."

Hephaestus uttered a gruff "We did" through his beard.

"It's enchanted. Really powerful if even we can't open it," explained Hermes.

Percy looked down at the box in his hands. "Looks ordinary enough. Where was it anyway?"

"Like I said," said April with a smirk. "They were sitting on it. It was under Apollo's beanbag.

"Hey!" said Apollo indignantly, "That's the securest place I could think of with Hermes around."

"Anyway, open it!" Hermes chimed.

Percy held it up next to his ear and shook it. Nothing. It sounded empty. Percy shot it a look. Why would anyone go through the effort of sending him an enchanted, empty box? He fiddled with the name tag and looked at it. It read, in bold, neat legible print:

 **PERSEUS JACKSON ΙΙΙ**

Clearly it was for him. Finally reaching for the lid, he lifted it up and was blinded by a startlingly white light. A pulse of energy washed over him like a wave. Powerful enough to force him to stagger back a few steps. His body began to tingle, like his entire being had gone numb. _A gift for you_ was the last thing Percy heard as his consciousness started to fade. The darkness encroaching upon him. With only the sound of silence to accompany him.

* * *

 **AN: Disclaimer - I do not own Pjo or Hoo**

 **Forgot to add that last time. This chapter was in limbo for a bit, i felt like I needed to tweak a few areas but I'm satisfied with how it turned out... I think.**

 **Have any of you guys seem Civil War yet? I'm glad they finally did Spider-man right. The quips, not knowing when to shut up, the awkwardishness and that teaser at the end was a nice segue into the build up for his movie next year.**

 **I'll see you guys in the next chapter. BYE!**

 **AMM: Techno Band by Lonehill Estate**


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